玄罚天尊的惩罚第二部

The morning sun cast long shadows across the grounds of Zephon Gate as Xuan Fa walked slowly along the stone path that wound through the sect's inner courtyard. In his right hand, he held a leather leash that split into three separate leads, each connected to a black collar worn by the women who crawled behind him on hands and knees.

Lin Qiaoxin moved on his left, her twin tails bouncing with each careful movement. She kept her head lowered, her bare breasts brushing against the cool stone with every forward motion. Despite the indignity of her position, a small smile played at the corners of her lips.

Li Que crawled on his right, her fiery red hair swept back from her face, her athletic body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Her movements were precise and controlled, each hand placement deliberate, as though even in this submissive posture she maintained a warrior's discipline.

Shen Mengyue followed in the center, her long black hair trailing across the ground behind her. Her skin was pale and flawless, her body carrying both the freshness of youth and the allure of maturity. The black collar around her throat gleamed in the light.

Disciple after disciple passed them, each woman completely naked, going about their duties without shame or hesitation. Some carried buckets of water, others tended to the gardens, and a few practiced sword forms in an open pavilion. None of them stared or whispered. They had grown accustomed to seeing their three Grand Elders crawling like this.

When they reached a shaded gazebo overlooking a koi pond, Xuan Fa stopped. He wrapped the leash around a wooden post and sat down on a cushioned bench, his black练习服 flowing around him like shadow. His face remained expressionless as he looked down at the three women who now knelt before him, their foreheads pressed to the ground.

"You have all broken through to the late Nascent Soul stage, is that correct?" His voice was flat, carrying no warmth.

Shen Mengyue lifted her head first. "Yes, Master. It is due to your discipline and the spiritual energy of the Xuan Realm that we were able to reach late Nascent Soul in three hundred years." She pressed her forehead back to the ground. "We are forever grateful."

Lin Qiaoxin nodded vigorously, her twin tails swaying. "Every spanking you gave us, every stroke of the board, it all helped refine our cultivation. Without your firm hand, we would still be stuck at mid-stage."

Li Que said nothing, but she also touched her forehead to the ground in agreement. Her red hair spread across the stone like spilled blood.

Xuan Fa studied them for a long moment. "Now that you have reached late Nascent Soul, I have tasks for the three of you."

He reached into his sleeve and produced three lengths of golden rope, each one glowing with faint runes. He held them out, and the women lifted their heads to look.

"Bai Zhenshuang, the Sword Sovereign of Heavenly Sword Sect, has spoken disrespectfully of Zephon Gate." He placed one rope in Shen Mengyue's outstretched hands. "Hua Qianyu, the Valley Mistress of Hundred Flowers Valley, allowed her disciples to occupy our medicinal garden. The disciples were driven off, but she has yet to offer proper reparation." He placed the second rope in Lin Qiaoxin's hands. "Su Qianyao, the Saintess of the Demon Clan, used her charm arts to cloud the minds of several Zephon Gate disciples. They recovered, but the offense remains." He placed the third rope in Li Que's hands.

The three women clutched the golden ropes reverently.

"You are to deliver a message to each of them," Xuan Fa continued. "They are to remove all their clothes, kneel at the entrance of Zephon Gate, present their buttocks, and receive one hundred strokes of the Heavenly Wood Board every day for ten years. If they refuse, you will defeat them in battle and bind them with these Immortal Binding Ropes, then drag them back here by force."

Lin Qiaoxin's smile widened. "Master, what if they put up a good fight?"

"Then break their pride before you bind them." Xuan Fa's eyes narrowed slightly. "You represent Zephon Gate. You represent me. Do not embarrass yourselves."

"Yes, Master," the three said in unison.

Shen Mengyue hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "Master, now that we have reached late Nascent Soul, this servant humbly requests an increase in our daily discipline. We would like to receive four hundred strokes instead of the usual two hundred."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes sparkled. "Mengyue speaks for all of us, Master. Our bodies have grown accustomed to the current punishment. We need more to continue refining our cultivation."

Li Que finally spoke, her voice low but firm. "The flame within me burns brighter after each stroke. I would welcome more."

Xuan Fa's lips curved into the faintest smile. "So you've grown to love the feeling of the board on your buttocks, have you?"

Lin Qiaoxin blushed but did not lower her gaze. "We admit it, Master. The pain, the humiliation, the heat spreading through our bodies... it brings us closer to you. It reminds us that we belong to you completely."

"Mmm." Xuan Fa's fingers tapped on his knee. "When you have completed this mission, I will grant your request. I will increase your daily punishment accordingly. And I will add something extra as a reward for your success."

The three women pressed their foreheads to the ground. "Thank you, Master. We are eternally grateful."

"Now then." Xuan Fa stood and looked toward the main hall of Zephon Gate. "Let us finish today's discipline before you depart."

He clapped his hands once, and from within the hall emerged three young women. They walked with measured steps, their bodies bare except for the black collars around their necks. Each one bore a striking resemblance to one of the three kneeling women—eight out of ten facial features, the same body type, the same hair color.

Lin Yuxin had her mother's twin tails, though she had arranged her hair in a maid's bun instead. Her face was round and youthful, carrying the same playful energy as Lin Qiaoxin.

Li Yunling had her mother's fiery red hair, pulled into a high ponytail that swung behind her as she walked. She carried herself with the same cool pride, though her eyes softened when they landed on Li Que.

Shen Xingmian moved with elegant grace, her long black hair falling past her waist. She shared her mother's features—the same delicate nose, the same full lips, the same ethereal beauty.

All three young women walked to Xuan Fa and knelt before him, pressing their foreheads to the cool stone.

"Greetings, Master," they said in unison.

Xuan Fa looked down at them. "Your mothers' buttocks are itching for discipline." He gestured to a rack of wooden boards mounted on the nearby wall. "You will take the Heavenly Wood Boards and give each of them two hundred strokes. After that, you will have them spread their legs, and you will deliver one hundred lashes with the whip to their crotch seams. One hundred each. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master." The three young women rose and walked to the rack. Each selected a board of dark, polished wood that seemed to absorb the light around it. Heavenly Wood—the highest grade of punishment implement, infused with spiritual energy that made each strike burn both flesh and soul.

Shen Mengyue was the first to position herself. She turned around, lowered her upper body until her chest touched the stone floor, and raised her hips high. Her buttocks, already full and rounded, presented themselves like an offering.

"Yuxin," Lin Qiaoxin called out as she took her position beside Shen Mengyue. "When you strike me, aim for this spot here." She reached back and touched the lower curve of her right buttock. "That's where the energy gathers most intensely. A deep hit there sends shocks through my entire dantian."

Li Que positioned herself on the other side, her athletic body folding into the same posture. "Yunling," she said, her voice carrying a hint of pride, "do not hold back. I raised you to be strong. Show me that strength."

Li Yunling gripped her board. "Yes, Mother. I will not disappoint you."

Shen Mengyue twisted her head to look at her daughter. "Xingmian, strike at an angle. A downward swing will catch the lower curve better than a horizontal one. And put your weight into it—your cultivation may be low, but your body still carries strength."

Xingmian adjusted her grip. "I understand, Mother. I will make sure your punishment is thorough."

Xuan Fa sat back down on the bench, his eyes scanning the three mothers and three daughters. "Begin."

Lin Yuxin was the first to swing. Her Heavenly Wood Board cut through the air with a sharp whistle before connecting with Lin Qiaoxin's left buttock. The impact echoed through the courtyard like thunder. Lin Qiaoxin's body jerked, but she let out a soft moan rather than a cry of pain.

"Good," Lin Qiaoxin breathed. "Again."

*Whack.*

The second strike landed on the same spot, and Lin Qiaoxin's back arched. A red imprint bloomed across her pale skin.

Shen Xingmian drew back her arm and brought the board down on Shen Mengyue's raised buttocks. The sound was sharp and wet, and Shen Mengyue's fingers scraped against the stone floor. But her voice remained steady as she said, "Lower. Your swing was too high. Strike lower."

"Yes, Mother." Xingmian adjusted her aim and swung again.

*Whack.*

"Ahh..." Shen Mengyue's breath hitched. "That's... that's better. Continue."

Li Yunling approached her mother with the same measured precision she brought to everything. She raised the board high and brought it down with controlled force.

*Crack.*

Li Que's body absorbed the blow without flinching. "Faster," she said. "Do not leave gaps between strikes. The pain should accumulate."

"Yes, Mother." Li Yunling swung again, and this time the board landed a fraction of a second after the first.

*Crack.*

*Crack.*

*Crack.*

The rhythm of the boards filled the courtyard. With each strike, the mothers' buttocks darkened from red to purple, from purple to a deep, angry black. Their skin split in places, and thin trails of blood ran down their thighs. But none of them cried out in pain. Their moans were those of pleasure, their gasps those of satisfaction.

The disciples who passed by averted their eyes, but they did not stop their work. This was a common sight at Zephon Gate. Punishment and cultivation were one and the same.

After two hundred strokes each, the three mothers' buttocks were ruined. The skin had broken open in multiple places, revealing the raw flesh beneath. The buttocks had swelled to nearly twice their normal size, giving their bodies an almost comical appearance.

But the mothers did not complain. Instead, they moved to the next position. They lowered their upper bodies again, but this time they spread their knees apart, opening their thighs wide. Their vaginas and anuses were fully exposed, glistening with moisture.

"Now for the seams," Xuan Fa said. He gestured to the whips hanging on the wall—thin, braided leather cords with multiple tails. "One hundred lashes each. Make sure every lash lands precisely."

Lin Yuxin took down a whip and positioned herself behind Lin Qiaoxin. "Mother, shall I alternate between your vagina and your anus?"

Lin Qiaoxin laughed despite her ruined state. "Yes, but focus more on the lips of my cunt. That's where the sensitivity is highest. And do not be gentle—I want to feel the sting for the rest of the day."

"As you wish, Mother." Lin Yuxin raised the whip and brought it down.

*Crack.*

The lash landed squarely across Lin Qiaoxin's labia. She gasped and shuddered, her body trembling. But when she spoke, her voice was breathless and eager. "Again. Harder."

*Crack.*

This time the lash caught her clitoris, and Lin Qiaoxin cried out—not in pain, but in ecstasy. Her vagina dripped with arousal, coating her inner thighs.

Shen Xingmian approached her mother with the same quiet grace. She examined the target area carefully befor

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The魔族圣女亲卫队 arrived at the mouth of责凰门 Mountain Pass with disciplined precision, sixty-three women in full battle armor, their weapons gleaming in the afternoon light. At their head stood a woman named A Zi, a cultivator at the mid-stage of化神, her eyes cold and alert as she surveyed the scene before her. Behind her, the rest of the亲卫队 stood in formation, every single one at the late-stage of元婴, their auras interwoven in a combat formation that could challenge three or four化神 cultivators without flinching.

What they saw made A Zi's blood boil.

Su Qianyao knelt in the dirt at the entrance to the mountain pass, her silver hair tangled and dusty, her voluptuous body completely naked. A black slave collar encircled her throat, gleaming dully in the sunlight. Her hands were bound behind her back with thick chains, and her plump posterior was lifted high in the air, presenting itself obscenely to anyone who cared to look. And look they did—the disciples of责凰门 watched from the shadows of the mountain walls, their eyes hungry.

A Zi's voice thundered across the mountain pass, amplified by her cultivation. "Who dares to bind the Saintess of the Demon Clan! Release her immediately, or face the wrath of the entire Demon Race!"

Two figures emerged from the shadows of the mountain pass, walking slowly, deliberately, their bare feet making no sound on the stone path. They were both completely naked, their bodies on full display without a hint of shame or hesitation.

The first woman was tall and imposing, her black hair cascading down her back like a silken waterfall. Her face was a masterpiece of cold beauty—sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, thin lips set in a permanent expression of regal disdain. Her eyes were like chips of ice, pale and piercing. Her body was a study in contrasts: her breasts were full and firm, standing proud against the afternoon breeze, her waist was slender enough to encircle with two hands, and her posterior was round and full, the kind of curves that poets wrote sonnets about. She carried herself with the bearing of a queen, shoulders back, chin high, as if her nakedness were a royal robe rather than a mark of submission. This was白枕霜, once the Sword Immortal of Heaven's Sword Sect, now a slave of the Xuan Fa Heavenly Venerate.

Beside her walked another woman, softer in every way, yet no less striking. Her hair was a pale green, the color of young bamboo leaves in spring, loosely pinned at the back of her head with a few strands falling gracefully beside her ears. Her face was gentle, her features soft and rounded, her eyes warm and kind—the face of a healer, a nurturer. Her body was generous and full, with curves that spoke of comfort and abundance. Her breasts were large and heavy, swaying gently with each step, her waist thicker than白枕霜's but still shapely, her posterior wide and soft-looking. She walked with a gentle sway, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if she were strolling through her own garden rather than exposing herself to an armed battalion. This was花千语, once the master of the Valley of a Hundred Flowers, now a slave of Xuan Fa.

The contrast between their nakedness and the fully armored亲卫队 was stark and jarring. The demon warriors stood in their polished armor, weapons ready, while these two women stood before them with nothing but their skin and their collars. Yet neither白枕霜 nor花千语 showed the slightest hint of vulnerability.

A Zi's eyes widened in recognition. "You!" She spat the word like a curse. "Bai Zhenshuang of Heaven's Sword Sect! Hua Qianyu of the Valley of a Hundred Flowers! What are you doing here, parading yourselves like common whores? Have you no shame? No dignity?"

白枕霜's cold eyes fixed on A Zi with an expression that could have frozen a volcano. "You are mistaken," she said, her voice like the first frost of winter. "I am no longer the Sect Master of Heaven's Sword Sect. I no longer hold any such title. By the grace of the Xuan Fa Heavenly Venerate, I have been accepted as his female slave, and given the name Shuang Nu—Frost Slave. Every day, I receive the punishment of the spanking board upon my backside. This is my purpose now. This is my honor."

A Zi's face contorted in disbelief and fury. "You've lost your mind!"

花千语 smiled gently, her voice warm and soothing like a spring breeze. "And I too am no longer the master of the Valley of a Hundred Flowers. I thank the Xuan Fa Heavenly Venerate for granting me the position of female slave, and have given me the name Yu Nu—Word Slave. Every day, I must receive the punishment of the spanking board. And as for your Saintess..." She gestured toward the kneeling, bound Su Qianyao, whose posterior still hovered in the air. "She is here of her own free will. She wishes to stay."

The words hit the亲卫队 like a physical blow. Several of them gasped. A Zi's hand tightened on her weapon. "Lies! The Saintess would never willingly submit to such degradation! You have bewitched her!"

"We have not,"花千语 said calmly. "She came to us on her own. She asked for this."

"Enough!" A Zi roared. "Attack! Rescue the Saintess and destroy these perverts!"

The亲卫队 surged forward, their formation snapping into place with practiced precision. Swords flashed, spells gathered, and the air crackled with killing intent.

白枕霜 drew her sword—a blade of pure ice, named Ning Shuang, Frost Solidified. The temperature around her dropped by twenty degrees in an instant. "They are many," she said, her voice flat. "But they lack discipline."

花千语 spread her hands, and green light gathered around her fingers, the energy of life and healing. "Then let us teach them what discipline means."

The battle began.

From the mountain pass, another sound rose—a sharp, wet crack followed by a moan that was pure, liquid pleasure. The亲卫队 turned, and what they saw made them falter.

Su Qianyao was still kneeling, still bound, still presenting her posterior to the sky. But now, a cultivator of责凰门 stood behind her, wielding a spanking board made of天道木, the wood of heavenly punishment. The board came down again, landing squarely on the Saintess's already reddened posterior with a sound like thunder. Su Qianyao's body jerked, and she let out a cry that was half pain, half ecstasy.

"Ahhh! Yes! More! Please, more!"

The亲卫队 stared in open-mouthed horror. Their Saintess, the most feared seductress in the demon realm, the woman who had broken the wills of countless cultivators with her魅惑 techniques, was lying on her belly with her ass in the air, begging to be spanked.

And every time the board hit her flesh,白枕霜's attacks became sharper, faster. She moved through the亲卫队 like a blizzard, her icy sword cutting through their formations with ruthless efficiency. When Su Qianyao cried out in pleasure,白枕霜's sword traced a perfect arc that sent three亲卫队 members flying. When the Saintess moaned,花千语's healing energy flared, sealing wounds and restoring stamina to the defenders.

"What is happening?" one of the亲卫队 shouted, panic creeping into her voice. "Why is she—"

Another crack. Another moan. And this time, Su Qianyao's body convulsed, her back arching, a shudder running through her from head to toe. A stream of liquid erupted from between her legs, spraying the ground beneath her. She cried out, a long, keening sound of pure release.

"It can't be..." whispered one of the亲卫队 members, her sword lowering. "The Saintess... she climaxed from the spanking..."

The morale of the亲卫队 shattered like glass. Their Saintess, their revered leader, was not being tortured against her will. She was being pleasured. She was enjoying this. Some of the younger亲卫队 members looked at each other in confusion, their weapons wavering. What were they fighting for? Who were they rescuing?

A Zi saw the collapse and tried to rally them. "Don't let them fool you! It's a trick! Keep fighting!"

But it was no use. Without their cohesion, without their absolute faith in their mission, the亲卫队 was just a group of talented cultivators, and白枕霜 and花千语 were化神后期 masters. The battle ended quickly after that. One by one, the亲卫队 members were disarmed, knocked unconscious, or sent fleeing down the mountain.

When it was over, Su Qianyao lay in the dirt, her posterior purple and swollen, the marks of the天道木 board standing out in angry welts. She panted heavily, her body still trembling from her release. She raised her head weakly to look at her亲卫队.

"Sisters," she said, her voice hoarse but clear. "Yao Nu truly is here of her own free will. I have always... wanted someone to beat my bottom until it is broken. I have always wanted this punishment. Please... do not interfere again."

The remaining亲卫队 members stared at her in stunned silence. A Zi looked from Su Qianyao to白枕霜 to花千语, her expression cycling through anger, disbelief, and finally, resignation. She sheathed her weapon.

"We leave," she said through gritted teeth. "The Saintess has made her choice. We cannot fight her wishes."

"But Captain—"

"We. Leave."

The亲卫队 retreated, their formation broken, their spirits crushed. They had come to rescue their Saintess and found her exactly where she wanted to be—on her belly, with her ass in the air, being spanked by a stranger. There was no rescue to be made. There was only humiliation.

As the last of the亲卫队 disappeared over the ridge,白枕霜 and花千语 cleaned their blades, wiped the blood from their bodies, and made their way back into the mountain pass. They walked through the halls of责凰门, their bare feet slapping against the stone floors, their bodies still on display, still unashamed. Disciples and slaves alike bowed as they passed, their eyes hungrily taking in the sight of these two powerful women wearing nothing but their collars.

They stopped before a simple wooden door. Inside, they could feel his presence—the cold, commanding aura of the Xuan Fa Heavenly Venerate. He was waiting for them.

They knelt before him, heads bowed, presenting the tops of their heads like supplicants. "Master," they said in unison. "The亲卫队 has been driven off. The Saintess remains under your care."

Xuan Fa stood at the window, his back to them, his black training robes perfectly still. He did not turn. "Good work," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "You have done well."

白枕霜 and花千语 felt warmth bloom in their chests. Praise from the Master was rare, and precious.

"Now," Xuan Fa said, still not turning, "I have your first task as my slaves."

They listened in silence as he spoke. The碧落宫 Palace of Azure Falling, ruled by Yun Qing'er, and the九幽谷 Valley of Nine Dark Depths, ruled by You Lan—both had allowed their disciples to come into conflict with责凰门. Both had failed to discipline their people. Neither sect had any化神 cultivators. They were small, insignificant. But they needed to learn.

"Tell them," Xuan Fa said, his voice cold as winter steel, "that they are to strip completely. All of them—the sect masters and every disciple who raised a hand against my people. They are to walk on their knees to the mouth of this mountain, bare and bowed. And there, they are to present their backsides for punishment. One hundred strokes of the天道木 board each. Every day. For three years. If they resist... the punishment will be severe."

"Yes, Master,"白枕霜 said, her heart singing with obedience.

"Yes, Master,"花千语 echoed, her gentle smile never wavering.

They rose and left, their bodies still bare, their collars still gleaming.

白枕霜 arrived at the碧落宫 Palace just as the sun was setting. The palace was a beautiful structure of pale blue stone, shimmering like a lake in the twilight. Disciples milled about the entrance, talking and laughing, until they saw her.

Then they screamed.

A naked woman, her body flawless and powerful, strode through their gates without a shred of clothing, without a shred of shame. Her black hair streamed behind her like a banner. Her cold, beautiful face held no expression, no apology, no embarrassment. She walked as if she owned the ground beneath her feet, and in a way, she did. Every ste

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the mountain path as Shen Mengyue approached the gates of the Heavenly Sword Sect. Her bare feet pressed against the stone steps, each step deliberate and unhurried. Her black hair cascaded down her back, rippling gently with her movement. The morning light caught the curves of her body, the pale perfection of her skin, the gentle sway of her breasts, the firm roundness of her hips. She carried only a sword in one hand, its scabbard plain, its blade sheathed.

The disciples on watch duty saw her first. A young man in white robes stared, his jaw dropping. "S-Senior Sister! There's a woman approaching... she's... she's naked!"

Word spread like wildfire through the outer courtyards. Disciples emerged from training halls and dormitories, crowding the walls and gateways. Their eyes went wide, their faces flushed with shock and confusion. A woman, completely bare, walking with the poise of a queen, her body on full display without a hint of shame.

Shen Mengyue paid them no mind. She had worn no clothing for decades. Why would she? She was a slave, her body her master's property, a thing to be displayed, used, and punished as he saw fit. The concept of modesty had been stripped away along with her robes, beaten out of her across countless sessions over his knee.

And yet, despite her nudity, not a single disciple dared to mock or jeer. A strange aura surrounded her, the presence of a cultivator far beyond their comprehension. The air around her hummed with suppressed power.

"Is that... is that the Moon Slave of Xuanfa?"

"I've heard of her. Shen Mengyue, former sect leader of the Immortal Mist Sect. She's a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator!"

"The Moon Slave, the Heart Slave, the Sparrow Slave... they're all terrifyingly powerful. And they serve only him."

Shen Mengyue stopped at the foot of the main staircase leading to the grand hall. She lifted her chin, her voice calm but carrying immense weight as she sent it echoing through the entire sect.

"I, Shen Mengyue, the Moon Slave of the Discipline Phoenix Sect, have come bearing a decree from my master, Xuanfa. Call forth your sect leader, Bai Zhenshuang. Let her face me."

The doors of the grand hall swung open. A figure emerged, tall and graceful, moving with the cool confidence of a woman who had never met her equal. Bai Zhenshuang's features were sharp and cold, her brow carrying an air of noble distance. Her black hair fell straight and smooth, framing a face of exquisite beauty. Her robes were white as winter snow, embroidered with silver threads that gleamed like frost. She carried a sword at her hip, its name whispered in awe across the land: Frost Condensation.

Bai Zhenshuang's gaze met Shen Mengyue's. For a brief moment, her eyes flickered with surprise. A powerful cultivator, and a former sect leader, standing completely bare before her sect. But she quickly regained her composure, her expression settling into its usual cool mask.

"Moon Slave of Xuanfa," Bai Zhenshuang said, her voice like ice chimes. "You come to my sect without robes, without courtesy. State your purpose."

Shen Mengyue smiled softly. "My master has heard your words, Sect Leader Bai. You have spoken lightly of the Discipline Phoenix Sect. You have shown disrespect to Xuanfa's name. As punishment, you are to strip yourself naked, kneel at the entrance of our mountain, and present your bare buttocks for punishment. Each day, one hundred strikes with the Heavenly Dao Board upon your ass. This will continue for ten years. A small lesson, my master calls it."

The disciples erupted in outrage.

"How dare she!"

"Insulting our sect leader like this!"

"Who does this bitch think she is?!"

"Silence!" Bai Zhenshuang's voice cut through the noise. The disciples fell quiet. She turned her gaze back to Shen Mengyue, her expression unreadable. "I respect only those who prove themselves worthy of my respect. I trust in my own strength to protect my sect. If your master wishes to punish me, let him come personally. Or send someone capable of forcing me to my knees."

Shen Mengyue tilted her head. "Sect Leader Bai, I urge you to reconsider. This punishment is a light one. If you resist, my master will not be so merciful."

"Let our strength speak for us," Bai Zhenshuang replied. She drew her sword, the blade gleaming like frozen light. "Defeat me, and I will listen to your words."

Shen Mengyue sighed softly, a hint of pity in her eyes. "Very well."

The two women faced each other in the courtyard. Disciples scrambled back, forming a wide circle. The air grew heavy, charged with spiritual pressure. Leaves lifted from the ground, swirling around them.

Bai Zhenshuang moved first, her sword slicing through the air with blinding speed, ice-cold qi radiating from her blade. Shen Mengyue's sword, Violet Mist, answered in kind. Steel clashed, sparks flying. They separated and came together again, a dance of deadly precision. Bai Zhenshuang's sword style was elegant, ruthless, every strike aimed to end the fight. Shen Mengyue's style was fluid, patient, a river wearing down a mountain.

The battle raged for a hundred exchanges. Disciples watched in awe as their sect leader pressed the attack, her sword a blur of white light. Yet Shen Mengyue held firm, deflecting each blow, her footwork impeccable, her counters precise.

Then, in the ninety-seventh exchange, Shen Mengyue found an opening. Her sword slipped past Bai Zhenshuang's guard, the flat of her blade striking her opponent's wrist. Bai Zhenshuang's grip faltered for a fraction of a second. That was all Shen Mengyue needed. A palm strike to the chest sent Bai Zhenshuang staggering backward. In the next instant, Violet Mist rested against the pale column of Bai Zhenshuang's throat.

"Yield," Shen Mengyue said quietly.

Bai Zhenshuang stood frozen, her breath caught. She had lost. For the first time in her life, she had been defeated in a fair duel. Her sword arm trembled, not from fear, but from a shock that ran deeper than her bones. She had thought herself invincible among sword cultivators. She had been wrong.

The disciples stared in horrified silence. Their sect leader, the strongest sword cultivator of their generation, had been bested.

"How... how is this possible?" someone whispered.

Shen Mengyue withdrew her sword. "I was once like you, Bai Zhenshuang. I believed my skill with a sword was unmatched. Then I met my master. He took me over his knee, again and again, and beat my arrogance out of me. Thousands of strikes, tens of thousands of slaps upon my bare bottom. And with each punishment, my cultivation grew. My sword technique sharpened. My spirit was reforged." She looked at the defeated woman with something like sympathy. "I have already informed my master of your resistance. He says your crime is compounded. You will be taken back to the Discipline Phoenix Sect for severe punishment. Now, you have a choice. Continue to resist, and your entire sect will suffer for your stubbornness. Or submit, and accept your fate alone."

Bai Zhenshuang closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were calm, resigned.

"I, Bai Zhenshuang, have been defeated in fair combat. I accept the consequences. Disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect, hear me now. Do not seek revenge for my sake. This is my burden alone."

Her voice was steady, though the words tasted like ash.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Bai Zhenshuang untied her robe. The white silk slipped from her shoulders, falling to the ground. She unfastened her inner garments, letting them pool around her feet. She stood naked before her sect, her body exposed for all to see.

Her skin was pale and flawless, smooth as porcelain. Her breasts were full and firm, perfectly shaped, rising and falling with each breath. Her waist was slender, curving into hips that flared with feminine grace. Her buttocks were round and plump, two perfect globes of soft flesh, high and firm, the kind that invited both admiration and discipline. Her legs were long and shapely, her thighs strong from years of sword training.

She knelt, placing her hands on her thighs, her head bowed.

Shen Mengyue approached. From her storage ring, she produced a collar of dark metal, engraved with restraining runes. She fastened it around Bai Zhenshuang's neck, the click of the lock echoing in the silent courtyard.

"Heavenly Sword Sect disciples," Shen Mengyue announced, her voice carrying across the entire compound, "your sect leader has committed the crime of disrespect toward the Discipline Phoenix Sect. She compounded her guilt by resisting just punishment. As a lesson, she will be publicly punished here, in front of the grand hall of your own sect. Four hundred strokes upon her bare buttocks. Afterward, she will be taken to the Discipline Phoenix Sect for further judgment."

The disciples watched in horror and fascination as Shen Mengyue produced a length of chain from the collar. She tugged gently, and Bai Zhenshuang began to crawl on her hands and knees, following her captor across the courtyard, up the stone steps, and onto the platform before the grand hall. The crowd parted, their eyes fixed on the naked form of their sect leader, her breasts swaying with each crawl, her buttocks rising and falling, a slave before her own people.

Shen Mengyue turned to face the woman at her feet. "My master has decreed that, for maximum humiliation, you will not be struck with the Heavenly Dao Board. Instead, you will be punished with your own sword's scabbard."

Bai Zhenshuang's eyes widened briefly, but she said nothing. She understood the symbolism. Her pride, her sword, her identity as a sword cultivator—all were being used to beat her down.

"Assume the position," Shen Mengyue ordered.

Bai Zhenshuang knelt forward, lowering her upper body until her chest pressed against the cold stone. Her arms stretched out before her, palms flat. And then, as instructed, she lifted her hips, presenting her round, pale buttocks to the open air. She spread her knees slightly, giving full access to the target. Her cheeks parted just enough to reveal the hidden folds between her thighs, a glimpse of pink flesh that made her bite her lip in shame.

Shen Mengyue picked up the scabbard. It was a simple weapon, unadorned, made of dark wood reinforced with metal bands. She held it in front of Bai Zhenshuang's upturned bottom, letting the woman see the instrument of her punishment.

"For your disrespect, one hundred strokes."

The scabbard swung.

*WHACK!*

The sound was sharp and loud, cutting through the silence. Bai Zhenshuang's body jerked, a gasp escaping her lips. A red stripe bloomed across the left cheek of her bottom.

*WHACK!*

The right cheek received the same treatment, the scabbard leaving a vivid line across the pale skin.

*WHACK!*

*WHACK!*

*WHACK!*

Shen Mengyue did not rush. Each stroke was deliberate, measured, aimed with precision. The scabbard struck the full curve of Bai Zhenshuang's buttocks, the flesh rippling on impact. The color deepened with each blow, shifting from pink to red to an angry crimson.

Bai Zhenshuang gritted her teeth. The pain was incredible, a burning, stinging fire that spread across her entire posterior. Her pride burned even more. She was a sect leader, a sword immortal, and she was being spanked like a naughty child in front of her entire sect. She could feel their eyes on her, watching her bare bottom turn red, watching her squirm and tense with each stroke.

"Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five."

Shen Mengyue continued without pause. The scabbard rose and fell, a metronome of punishment. Bai Zhenshuang's breathing grew ragged. Tears began to well in her eyes, though she fought to hold them back.

"Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred."

The first hundred were done. Bai Zhenshuang's bottom was a deep, uniform red, hot to the touch, covered in overlapping stripes. Her thighs trembled, her knuckles white where she gripped the stone

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The sun hung low over the rolling hills of the百花谷, casting long shadows across the terraced gardens of medicinal herbs and flowering plants. The air was thick with the sweet scent of blooming orchids and the earthy fragrance of freshly turned soil. Disciples in flowing green robes moved among the gardens, tending to the precious flora with practiced care, their voices a gentle hum of conversation and laughter.

That peace shattered when a figure appeared at the main gate of the valley.

She was tall and athletic, her body a masterpiece of lean muscle and graceful curves. Her skin was tanned to a warm bronze, glowing with an inner vitality that spoke of countless hours under the sun. Her hair was a cascade of fiery red, pulled back into a high ponytail that swayed with each confident step. Her face was sharp and striking, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and eyes like burning coals that held no warmth for those she deemed unworthy.

She was completely, utterly naked.

The first disciples to notice her froze mid-motion, their hands dropping the herbs they had been harvesting. Jaws fell open. Eyes widened in disbelief. A young male disciple dropped his watering bucket, the clatter echoing across the gardens. The woman paid them no mind. She walked with the casual grace of a predator surveying its territory, her bare feet padding softly against the stone path. Her breasts swayed gently with each step, firm and full, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was both natural and deliberately provocative. Around her neck, a black slave collar gleamed dully in the afternoon light, a stark contrast to her sun-kissed skin.

"What in the name of..." a senior disciple whispered, her face flushing crimson.

"Is she... is she insane?" another stammered.

"Look at her collar! She's someone's slave!"

The naked woman's lips curled into a faint smirk. She had heard such words countless times before. In her former life, she would have incinerated anyone who dared speak of her with such disrespect. But that was before. Before she had been broken and remade, before she had learned the true meaning of submission. Now, the stares, the whispers, the shock and disgust—they were only confirmations of her place in the world. She was property. She was a display. She was the雀奴, and her master's pleasure was her only law.

She raised her hand, and a wave of heat rippled outward. The air shimmered. A plaque of flames materialized before her, burning with an intensity that made the nearby disciples scramble backward. In letters of fire, it read:

百花谷主花千语，速来见汝。

The message hung in the air for a moment before dissipating into embers. The woman stopped walking and stood in the center of the main courtyard, arms crossed, waiting. She did not have to wait long.

A commotion arose from the main hall. Disciples parted like water before a ship as a group emerged, led by a woman whose presence commanded instant attention.

She was beauty incarnate, a vision of softness and strength woven together. Her face was a study in gentle grace—a smooth forehead, arched brows that framed eyes the color of warm jade, a nose that was delicate yet straight, and lips that seemed perpetually on the verge of a kind smile. Her hair was a deep, rich green, the color of moss in a shaded forest, and it was loosely pinned behind her head with a simple wooden hairpin. A few stray strands had escaped their confinement, framing her face and softening her features. She wore a flowing robe of pale green silk that draped over a body both lush and refined—full breasts that pressed against the fabric, a waist that curved inward before flaring into generous hips.

This was花千语, the master of百花谷, a woman whose reputation for healing and alchemy was matched only by her compassion for her disciples.

But when her jade eyes fell upon the naked woman standing in her courtyard, her serene expression shifted. Confusion gave way to recognition, and recognition gave way to a deep, weary dread.

"离雀," she breathed.

The red-haired woman inclined her head. "You know me, then. Good. That saves time."

"You are... the雀奴 of the责凰门,"花千语 said carefully, her voice steady despite the tight knot forming in her stomach. "What brings you to my valley? And why are you... presenting yourself in such a manner?"

离雀's smirk widened. "I am a slave. My body is not my own. It is my master's to display, to use, to punish." She gestured down at her naked form. "He commands that I travel as I am. I obey. Is there a problem, 花谷主?"

花千语's lips pressed into a thin line. She had heard stories of the责凰门, of the mad tyrant who called himself玄罚, of the women he had broken and claimed as his possessions. She had hoped, naively, that her valley would remain untouched by his reach. But hope was a fragile thing.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice clipped.

离雀's eyes glinted. "My master sends a message. Your disciples have trespassed upon责凰门 territory. They occupied my master's私人药园 and harvested its contents without permission."

A ripple of murmurs ran through the gathered百花谷 disciples. Several faces paled.花千语's heart sank. She remembered that mission—a group of her senior disciples had been sent to gather rare herbs from a disputed area near the border. She had trusted their judgment that the territory was unclaimed.

"I see," she said slowly. "I was not aware that land belonged to the责凰门."

"Ignorance is no excuse,"离雀 replied, her tone flat. "My master's decree is absolute. All disciples who set foot in that药园 must strip naked, kneel at the entrance of责凰门 Mountain, and present their buttocks for punishment. Each will receive one hundred strokes of the Heavenly Wood Board per day. This will continue for ten years. This is a minor lesson, my master says."

"Minor?!" a senior disciple exclaimed, her face pale. "That's a thousand strokes each!"

"And your谷主 is to be punished as well,"离雀 continued, ignoring the outburst. "For failing to control her subordinates."

花千语 closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were hard. "I cannot allow this. My disciples have families, futures. A public punishment of that nature would destroy them."

"Then you will fight me,"离雀 said, and there was something almost eager in her voice. "My master anticipated your response. I am authorized to subdue you by force."

"I don't want to fight you,"花千语 said, stepping forward. "I am a healer, not a warrior. But I will not let you degrade my disciples."

离雀 spread her arms, her naked body on full display. "Then come, 花谷主. Let us settle this."

The courtyard cleared. Disciples backed away, their faces masks of fear and uncertainty. They had never seen their谷主 prepare for combat, and the sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

花千语 drew a deep breath. Green energy swirled around her body, coalescing into a staff of living wood, its surface etched with runes of healing and binding. Her robes billowed as she settled into a defensive stance. "Last chance to walk away, 离雀."

"There is no walking away for slaves,"离雀 replied, and flames erupted from her palms. "There is only obedience."

She struck first—a lance of fire that shot across the courtyard with blinding speed.花千语 twisted, bringing her staff up to deflect the blast. The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the stone floor, cracking tiles and sending dust swirling into the air.

离雀 moved with the speed of a striking serpent, her body a blur of motion. She closed the distance in three heartbeats, her fists wreathed in flames. She didn't use weapons. She didn't need them. Her body was her weapon, honed by years of training and countless battles.

花千语 was a healer, and her fighting style reflected that. She was defensive, reactive. She parried and dodged, her staff weaving patterns of energy that absorbed and redirected the worst of离雀's assaults. But she was clearly outmatched. The fire mage was relentless, pushing forward with an aggression that gave her no room to counter.

"Submit,"离雀 growled, her fist slamming into花千语's guard. The wooden staff groaned under the impact. "It will hurt less."

花千语 gritted her teeth and pushed back, sending a wave of binding vines toward离雀's feet. The red-haired woman glanced down, then simply immolated the vines with a pulse of heat. She stepped through the ash and slapped花千语 across the face with an open palm.

花千语 staggered, blood beading at the corner of her mouth.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't do this."

"You brought this on yourself,"离雀 said, and she struck the healer in the stomach with a closed fist, driving the breath from her lungs.

花千语 doubled over, her staff clattering to the ground.离雀 caught her by the hair and yanked her upright, then swept her legs out from under her. The healer crashed onto her back, the air leaving her in a pained gasp.离雀 pressed a foot to her chest, pinning her to the ground.

"You fought well," the fire mage said, her voice almost kind. "For a healer."

She released花千语 and stepped back. The healer remained on the ground, gasping for breath, her green robes stained with dust and blood. Her disciples rushed forward, but花千语 raised a hand, stopping them.

"It's over," she said, her voice hollow. "I lost."

离雀 nodded and reached into the spatial ring on her finger. She pulled out a small jade talisman and held it up. Her lips moved, and the talisman glowed.

A voice emerged from it.

Cold. Crisp. Utterly without mercy.

"So. You resisted."

花千语's blood turned to ice. That voice was the stuff of nightmares, the voice of a man who saw the world as nothing but toys to be broken and remade.

"玄罚," she breathed.

"The谷主 and her valley rebelled even after judgment was passed," the voice—玄罚's voice—continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "The crime is compounded.花千语 is to be brought back to责凰门 for severe punishment. Every disciple under her authority will receive a harsh spanking. Their offenses will be clearly detailed to them before each stroke."

Somewhere in the crowd, a disciple began to cry. Others followed, their sobs spreading like a contagion through the valley.花千语 pushed herself to her knees, her heart breaking at the sound of her children's despair.

"Please," she said, her voice raw. She crawled forward, not caring how pathetic she looked. "Please, Lord玄罚. Spare them. The fault is mine alone. I should have been more careful. I should have known the territory. Let their punishment fall on me. Double it. Triple it. Whatever you wish."

Silence from the talisman. Then, cold amusement.

"Only you?"玄罚 asked. "Do you understand what that means?"

"It means I am responsible,"花千语 said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I accept any consequence. Please. They are innocent."

"Fine," the voice said. "But if you bear the burden of your disciples, the punishment will be severe. I will show no mercy."

花千语 nodded, her body trembling. "I understand."

"Then strip."

The command hung in the air, simple and absolute.花千语's face went pale, but she didn't hesitate. She reached up and undid the clasp of her robe, letting the green silk fall from her shoulders. Her disciples watched in horror as their谷主 bared herself before them. Her body was beautiful—full breasts that seemed almost too heavy for her frame, a soft stomach, hips that curved into generous thighs. Her skin was fair, unblemished, and now exposed to the eyes of everyone she had sworn to protect.

She knelt, naked and humiliated, and pressed her forehead to the ground.

"Please," she whispered. "Only me."

The talisman went silent.离雀 stepped forward, a length of black chain in her hand. She looped it around花千语's neck and cinched it tight.

"On your hands and knees," she ordered.

花千语 obeyed. The chain tugged, and she began to crawl.

The journey from the courtyard to the main hall was only a few hundred yards, but it felt like an eternity.花千语's disciples lined the path, their faces masks of shock, fear, and shame. Some cried openly. Others couldn't bear to look. The soft pad of her hands and knees against the stone floor echoed in the si

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Into the heart of the ancient ruins, where crumbling stone arches were woven with wild vines and the air hummed with residual energy from ages past, a figure stood in the shadows. Silver hair cascaded down her back like moonlight made solid, and her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as she surveyed the scattered bones and forgotten treasures around her. Su Qianyao, the Demon Saint, was a vision of lethal beauty. Her robes were cut low, clinging to her curves, her full breasts and narrow waist accentuated by the flowing silk that parted at her thigh. Her lips curved in a perpetual inviting smile, and even the dust of the ancient realm seemed to shimmer in her presence.

She heard a soft footfall, light and unconcerned, and turned. What she saw made her laugh, a melodious sound like silver bells. "Well, well, what a rare sight," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed mockery. "A girl running around bare-assed in a place like this. Truly a wonder."

The newcomer was Lin Qiaoxin, and she was indeed naked. Her skin was pale and flawless, her body slender and fit, her breasts pert and her waist narrow. Her black hair was tied into two bouncy ponytails that swayed as she walked. Around her neck was a black slave collar, stark against her fair skin. She carried herself with absolute unconcern, as if striding through a secret realm wearing nothing was the most natural thing in the world. Beside her, the ancient armored guardians and robed cultivators who might have once walked these halls would have been scandalized, but Lin Qiaoxin seemed utterly delighted by the contrast.

At Su Qianyao's words, she giggled and wiggled her hips, her bare bottom swaying in a deliberately provocative motion. "Well, what do you think, Sister Yao? Isn't this a pretty sight?" She reached back and patted one cheek with a soft slap. "I was twenty years old when the Master took me as his slave girl. Now I'm over four hundred. I've spent more time without clothes than with them. You get used to it." She grinned, utterly unashamed, and turned in a slow circle, letting Su Qianyao take in every detail of her nude form.

Then her light tone shifted, just a little. "But Sister Yao, playing tricks on our disciples isn't very nice. Using your charm techniques to mess with the hearts of the junior members of the Ze Feng Sect." She tilted her head, still smiling, but there was a glint in her eyes. "The Master gave me orders. I'm supposed to take you back for a spanking. Just ten years of discipline. It's not that long, really. So why don't you come along nicely with me? Save us the trouble of a fight."

Su Qianyao's crimson eyes glittered with interest. She placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. "Playing tricks? I was just having a little fun with them. They're such sweet, innocent little things." She laughed again, her voice low and seductive. "But spanking? You want to punish my behind?" Her smile turned challenging. "You'll have to earn that right, little sister. Let's see if you can back up your Master's reputation."

"Ah, but Sister Yao, resisting punishment is the worst thing you can do," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice still playful but with a note of genuine warning. "The Master doesn't take kindly to those who defy his commands. If I have to drag you back, he'll be angry. He might beat your bottom until it's black and blue." She paused, then tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Though, I suppose that would be quite a sight too."

She reached back and patted her own well-disciplined bottom, a dreamy look crossing her face. Her thoughts drifted to her Master's Heavenly Dao punishment board, the wooden implement that rained down pain and pleasure in equal measure. Every day she knelt before him, her bare rump offered up, and every day that board landed with perfect, agonizing precision, turning her skin to fire. Her heart ached with longing. She wanted to be kneeling before him now, waiting for his judgment.

Su Qianyao saw that distant look and a thrill ran through her. Her own lips curled. A spanking. A real one. She had been the Demon Saint of the Mo Clan, unmatched in power, surrounded by men who feared her. No one had ever dared raise a hand to her. Not once. But in the hidden depths of her soul, there was a hunger she had never spoken aloud. A greedy, desperate craving for a firm hand, for stinging pain that would leave her marked. Her plush rear, so often admired and never touched, ached with a phantom sting. She wanted to know what it felt like to be truly punished.

"Then let's see what you've got, little Heart Slave," she said, and stepped forward, her aura flaring.

Lin Qiaoxin's smile widened. In an instant, the air around them changed. Runes flared to life, lines of light that carved themselves into the stone floor, into the walls, into the very air. A formation bloomed, complex and beautiful, radiating power that pressed in from all sides. Su Qianyao moved with the speed of a striking serpent, her hands weaving illusions that shimmered and distorted reality.

Lin Qiaoxin stood at the center of her array, utterly calm. "Sister Yao, you should have just come with me."

The battle was fierce. Su Qianyao's illusions filled the chamber with false images, false sounds, false sensations designed to confuse and enthrall. The air grew heavy with the scent of flowers and desire. But Lin Qiaoxin's formation was a fortress of logic and precision. It cut through the illusions, unraveling them thread by thread. The two women clashed, one a master of the mind, the other a mistress of structure.

Finally, with a flash of binding runes, Lin Qiaoxin's formation closed around Su Qianyao like a net. The Demon Saint cried out as she was lifted from the ground, her limbs drawn out wide, arms and legs pulled taut until she hung in the air like a spread-eagled captive. Her robes had been shredded by the battle, and now they fell away in tatters, leaving her completely bare.

Lin Qiaoxin let out a low whistle. "Not a bad figure, Sister Yao."

Su Qianyao's body was perfection itself. Her skin was smooth as cream, her breasts full and heavy, tipped with nipples that had already hardened from the chill of the ancient air. Her waist was impossibly narrow, curving down to hips that flared wide, and below them, the crown jewel: a pair of buttocks so round and plump they seemed almost sculpted. They were the kind of buttocks that demanded attention, that seemed made for punishment.

Lin Qiaoxin approached, and the formation around Su Qianyao shifted. Lines of energy coalesced into dozens of steel whips and flat paddles, all formed from pure array energy. They floated in the air, waiting.

Lin Qiaoxin picked one, a wide paddle of condensed light, and drew it back.

The first strike landed with a sharp crack, echoing through the chamber.

Su Qianyao gasped, her voice catching in a way that was not entirely pained. Her eyes widened, and then she let out a moan, low and throaty, that echoed off the stone walls.

"Oh my," Lin Qiaoxin said, pausing. "That didn't sound like a scream."

"Again," Su Qianyao breathed, her voice husky. "Harder."

Lin Qiaoxin blinked, then laughed. "Well, well. I thought I was the only one who liked the sting. But you, Sister Yao..." She shook her head. "You're even worse than me."

She struck again, and Su Qianyao's body jolted. The paddle left a red imprint across her pale skin, a vivid line of rising heat. Su Qianyao's back arched, and her hips bucked involuntarily. A trickle of moisture ran down her inner thigh.

"You like this," Lin Qiaoxin said, incredulous.

"More," Su Qianyao whispered. "Please. Don't stop."

The steel whips joined the paddles, and together they rained down a relentless storm upon that greedy, curvy bottom. Each stroke was precise, measured. Lin Qiaoxin knew her formations, and her punishment was no exception. She varied the angle, the force, the implement. The paddles struck deep, spreading the impact across the full width of Su Qianyao's cheeks. The whips landed with sharp, biting flicks that left thin red lines across the already-reddened skin.

Su Qianyao had never known such sensation. The first few strokes had been shocking, a flare of heat that made her gasp. But as they continued, it built. Each slap sent a wave of fire through her nerves, and at the center of that fire, something else bloomed. A deep, resonant pleasure that pooled low in her belly. The sting of each subsequent stroke only fanned the flames. Her backside grew hot, then hotter, a spreading warmth that radiated into her thighs and up her spine. Her cunt ached, empty, desperate. Moisture streamed down her legs, and she could not stop the sounds that escaped her lips—gasping moans, breathless whimpers, cries that sang with a desperate plea.

"More! More! Please, heart sister, don't stop!"

Lin Qiaoxin kept going, her expression a mixture of shock and amusement. She had seen women cry, beg, curse, weep. She had been one of them, her own bottom turned to a blazing canvas by her Master's board. But this... Su Qianyao was not enduring the pain. She was devouring it. Every new stroke only made her moan louder, her body tremble more violently. Her thighs were slick with her own juices, and her breathing came in ragged, desperate gasps.

"Harder! I beg you!"

Lin Qiaoxin obeyed. The paddles struck faster, the whips cracked with more precision. Su Qianyao's bottom, once a perfect pale canvas, transformed. First it was pink, then red, then a deep, furious crimson. The skin grew hot to the touch, tight and sensitive. By the time the count reached three hundred, it was a deep, angry purple, swollen and tender. By four hundred, Su Qianyao hung limp in her bonds, every muscle loose, her head lolling. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, and her entire body hummed with a replete satisfaction she had never known.

Lin Qiaoxin stopped. The implements of punishment faded into light and were gone. She approached Su Qianyao's hanging form and looked at the ravaged bottom. It was a masterpiece of discipline, a perfect, symmetrical landscape of swollen, discolored flesh, hot and throbbing.

"Now," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice chipper, "let me show you something fun."

She produced a long, slender piece of ginger, freshly peeled and sharpened to a smooth point. It gleamed in the dim light.

Su Qianyao, still dazed, looked at it with hazy curiosity.

Lin Qiaoxin squeezed the piece, releasing the pungent juice, then positioned it. With a firm, gentle push, she slid the ginger rod into Su Qianyao's anus.

The reaction was immediate. Su Qianyao's body went rigid. Her eyes flew wide, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. The ginger's oils seeped into the delicate tissues, and there was nothing gentle about it. It was a hot, burning tingle that spread, intensified, became an unbearable, exquisite fire that was completely different from the heat on her bottom. That was external, a surface sensation. This was internal, deep, invasive.

Su Qianyao sobbed, a sound that was half pain and half ecstasy. Her hips bucked against the bonds, trying to escape and push deeper at the same time. The ginger burned, a relentless, spreading fire that seemed to fill her entire core. Each involuntary clench of her muscles only ground the vegetable deeper, releasing more of its fiery oil. Sweat broke out across her skin. Her breaths came in sharp, desperate pants.

But beneath the agony, beneath the sharp, stinging fire, something in her soul sang. This was punishment. True, thorough, creative punishment. Her greedy bottom, her hungry cunt, her empty ass—all of it was being filled and violated by pain. She had waited centuries for this. Her body wept with gratitude, with a perverse satisfaction that made her whimper and writhe.

"Please," she gasped, "please leave it in. Leave it."

Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head. "You really are a piece of work, Sister Yao."

She left the ginger in place. The time that followed was an agony and a bliss for Su

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the marble square of Zepen Gate, its pale light illuminating the three stone pillars that stood at the center like monuments to judgment. Each pillar rose ten feet high, carved with intricate符文 that pulsed with a dull amber glow, suppressing the spiritual energy of anyone bound to them. Before these pillars knelt three women, their bodies completely bare, their hands bound behind their backs with golden chains wrapped around the stone columns. The chains hummed with restraint magic, gleaming harshly against the smooth skin of the prisoners.

Bai Zhenshuang knelt on her knees, her back straight despite her position. Her long black hair fell across her shoulders, partially obscuring the lock of hair that framed her cold, aristocratic face. Her blue eyes, usually as chill as winter ice, stared straight ahead at the empty square, refusing to betray any emotion. But as her own sword—the凝霜 blade she had wielded for centuries—floated before her, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The sword's scabbard detached from its sheath and hovered behind her, its tip aimed at her exposed buttocks.

"No, not my own sword," Bai Zhenshuang murmured, her voice barely a whisper. The humiliation was almost worse than the pain. She was a sword immortal, a woman who had defeated countless opponents with this very weapon. And now it was to beat her like a common misbehaving child.

The scabbard struck her right buttock with a sharp *crack*, and Bai Zhenshuang's body jolted forward. Her skin reddened instantly, a vivid pink mark spreading across the pale flesh. She clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out. But the scabbard was relentless—it swung again, landing on her left buttock with equal force, and again, and again, each blow measured and precise, as if her own sword took pleasure in punishing her.

After the first hundred strokes, Bai Zhenshuang's eyes began to water despite her iron will. The pain was sharp and deep, radiating through her flesh like fire. Her buttocks turned from pink to bright red, then to a angry crimson as the scabbard continued its merciless assault. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breathing became ragged. When the fourth hundredth stroke landed, she let out a small, choked gasp, her body trembling. The scabbard paused, and she thought it was over. But her sword's voice—cold and mechanical—spoke in her mind.

"Now spread your legs."

Bai Zhenshuang's heart sank. She closed her eyes, her pride screaming within her. But the rules were absolute. Slowly, painfully, she opened her knees, exposing the most private part of her body to the open air. The scabbard descended again, but this time it struck the tender skin between her buttocks, the crack of the impact echoing in the silent square. A whip of spirit energy followed, lashing across her most sensitive area, and Bai Zhenshuang finally screamed—a sharp, anguished cry that she could no longer suppress.

Tears streamed down her face as the whip lashed her a hundred times, each stroke a reminder of her defeat. By the end, her thighs were slick with sweat and tears, and her entire lower body was a mess of red welts. She sobbed quietly, her head hanging low, her dignity shattered. But deep in her heart, she knew: she had brought this upon herself. She had challenged Zepen, and she had lost. This was the price.

Next to her, Hua Qianyu knelt with her hands similarly bound. The百花谷谷主 was known for her gentle demeanor and kind eyes, but now those eyes were squeezed shut, her face contorted in agony. Her buttocks already glistened with a green, viscous substance—scorpion grass juice, spread in a thick layer across both cheeks. The effect was immediate: an unbearable, maddening itch that seemed to burrow into her very skin.

"Please... please, no more," Hua Qianyu whimpered, but her words were lost in the air. The two heavenly planks floated in front of her, each the size of a paddle, carved from celestial wood. They began to strike her buttocks with alternating blows, and with every hit, the scorpion grass juice reacted, intensifying the itching a hundredfold.

Hua Qianyu cried out, her body writhing as much as the chains allowed. The itch was beyond anything she had ever experienced—it felt like a thousand insects crawling inside her flesh, biting and stinging with every heartbeat. She begged and pleaded, her voice rising to a desperate scream, but the planks did not stop. Forty... eighty... one hundred... two hundred... three hundred... four hundred strikes later, her buttocks were a swollen, angry red, covered in green juice and her own tears. She collapsed forward, her forehead resting on the cold marble, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's my fault," she gasped between sobs. "I angered Zepen. I deserve this. But please... leave the Hundred Flowers Valley out of this... they have no part in my transgression..."

Her words faded into more sobs as she lay there, broken and humiliated, her body twitching with the aftershocks of the itch and the pain.

And then there was Su Qianyao. The demon saintess knelt with an almost graceful defiance, her silver hair cascading down her back, her red eyes burning with a strange pleasure. As the heavenly planks descended upon her exposed buttocks, she did not scream. Instead, she let out a moan—a deep, throaty sound that was both pained and ecstatic.

"Harder," she purred, her body arching as the plank struck her left cheek. "Please... harder..."

The planks complied. They struck her with increasing force, each blow sending a shudder through her voluptuous body. Su Qianyao's buttocks turned red, then purple, but she seemed to enjoy it. Her pussy was wet—soaked, actually—and every strike made her gasp with pleasure.

"Yes... yes... just like that," she moaned, her head thrown back, her silver hair whipping around her shoulders. "More... more..."

After four hundred strokes, she was breathing heavily, a satisfied smile on her face, her body glistening with sweat. But the punishment was not over. A large ginger root, freshly peeled, hovered before her. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, the root was pushed into her anus, filling her completely.

Su Qianyao let out a small yelp, then another, and then she began to writhe. The burning sensation was intense—a combination of the ginger's heat and the stretching of her entrance. She moaned and groaned for the next hour, her body rolling with each wave of fire, until finally, the root was removed, and she collapsed in a trembling heap.

The three women knelt in the square, their bodies broken and bruised, their spirits crushed. Then, from the heavens, a beam of light descended upon them—a healing formation from the Xuantian Realm. Warm energy wrapped around their wounds, soothing the pain, healing the welts, and removing the scorpion grass juice. Within moments, their skin was smooth again, unblemished. But the memory of the punishment remained.

Inside the Xuantian Realm, the air was crisp and pure, filled with the scent of spiritual herbs and the hum of celestial cultivation. Zepen sat on a raised platform, his black training robes immaculate, his expression cold and indifferent before his women. Before him knelt Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue, their heads bowed.

"Report," Zepen said, his voice flat.

"The three knelt as commanded," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice soft. "Bai Zhenshuang endured her four hundred strokes and one hundred whip lashes. She cried but did not break. Hua Qianyu suffered the scorpion grass juice—she screamed the loudest. And Su Qianyao... she enjoyed it. She begged for more."

Zepen's eyebrow twitched. "She always does."

Li Que added, "Master, we have completed your task. We humbly request... that you increase our daily spanking count. From three hundred to four hundred."

A faint smile touched Zepen's lips—rare, and therefore significant. "So you've fallen in love with the sting, have you?"

The three women blushed. Lin Qiaoxin nodded, her cheeks reddening. "Yes, Master. We have."

Shen Mengyue spoke next, her voice steady: "The pain reminds us of our place. It purifies our minds and bodies. And your hand or the heavenly planks bring us... satisfaction."

Li Que smirked, her fire-red hair rustling. "I'd rather have your hand over anything else, Master. But the planks will do."

Zepen chuckled—a low, rumbling sound. "Then let's test that devotion." He clapped his hands, and a door opened behind him. Three figures entered: Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian. The three daughters knelt before Zepen, their heads bowed, their bodies bare except for black slave collars.

"Greetings, Master," they said in unison, their voices obedient.

"Your mothers' backsides are feeling neglected," Zepen said, his voice carrying a hint of dark amusement. "Each of you take a heavenly plank and strike their buttocks four hundred times. No less."

The three daughters looked at their mothers with a mixture of duty and... was it excitement? Lin Yuxin stepped forward, her hand on the floating plank. "Mother," she said softly, "please turn around."

Lin Qiaoxin complied immediately, lowering her waist and raising her buttocks in the air. "Thank you, daughter," she said, her voice warm despite the impending pain. "And remember: aim for the spot just above my sit-bones. That's where it hurts most. And strike fast—don't give me time to breathe between blows."

Lin Yuxin nodded, her face unreadable. She lifted the plank and brought it down with a sharp *smack* across her mother's right buttock. Lin Qiaoxin gasped, her body jolting. "Harder!" she cried. "You need to put your whole weight behind it!"

Li Que, on the other hand, was already positioned, her buttocks high in the air, her body taut. "Li Yunling," she snarled, "don't you dare go easy on me. I want to feel this for a week. Hit me so hard I forget my own name."

Li Yunling's eyes flickered with a hint of challenge. She swung the plank with brutal force, striking her mother's left buttock so hard that the sound echoed through the hall. Li Que grunted, a mixture of pain and satisfaction. "Good... good... now the right..."

Shen Mengyue knelt quietly, her body still, her eyes closed. "Shen Xingmian," she said, her voice calm, "don't hold back. Your master has ordered four hundred. It shall be four hundred. No less."

Shen Xingmian raised the plank with respect. "Yes, Mother." She struck, and Shen Mengyue grunted softly, her face impassive.

The four hundred strokes were delivered quickly. The room was filled with the rhythmic *crack* of wood on flesh, punctuated by grunts, gasps, and the occasional sob. By the end, the three mothers' buttocks were a mess of purple welts and red patches, their lower bodies trembling with exhaustion.

The three daughters put down the planks and stepped back. "Your punishment is complete," they said in unison.

Lin Qiaoxin turned to face Zepen, her eyes glistening with tears of pain and something else. "Master," she said, "your daughter's hands are skilled. But we would rather feel your heavenly planks. Or better yet, your own hand."

Li Que nodded, her head still bowed. "Yes, Master. Your hand is what we crave."

Shen Mengyue added, "Your call is ours to obey."

Zepen smiled—a cold, knowing smile. "Very well. Next time, I shall summon the heavenly planks myself and apply them to your backsides. And I have another task: your daughters have made progress in their cultivation. They have earned a correction from their mothers. Next time, you will be the ones wielding the planks."

From behind him, the three daughters knelt immediately. "Masters," they said, bowing their heads once more. "We ask that you do not hold back. Our backsides have become accustomed to the sting. We can take much more than before."

Zepen looked down at the six women kneeling before him—his three concubines and their three daughters, all bound by chains of loyalty and devotion. A rare, genuine smile crossed his face.

"Go

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the disciplinary grounds of the Xuantian Realm. Row upon row of kneeling female cultivators stretched across the vast stone plaza, their bare buttocks raised high in the air in perfect alignment. Each woman knelt with her forehead touching the cool stone, arms stretched forward, presenting herself completely to the punishment that awaited.

The eighty women who knelt there represented the cream of the cultivation world. Former sect leaders, renowned elders, prodigious talents from noble families, and those who had willingly bound themselves to the Zefeng Sect as slaves. Women who had once commanded armies of disciples and governed territories spanning thousands of miles now knelt with their most private parts exposed to the morning air.

Behind each woman floated two slabs of heavenly wood, dark and polished, humming with contained spiritual power. They moved as one, synchronized by the will of their master. The boards drew back simultaneously, then swung forward with devastating precision.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The sound echoed across the plaza like thunder rolling across the heavens. Eighty pairs of buttocks received the blows in perfect rhythm. The flesh rippled and reddened under the relentless assault, turning from pale white to bright pink, then deeper shades of crimson as the punishment continued.

Some of the newer slaves cried out with each strike, their bodies jerking forward as tears streamed down their faces. But the older ones, those who had been disciplined for months or years, remained still. They trembled and wept silently, but they did not resist. They had learned that resistance only made the punishment worse. Submission brought its own strange form of peace.

At the very front of the assembly, positioned so all could see them, knelt three figures who bore the heaviest burden of punishment. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue knelt side by side, their bare buttocks lifted high, waiting for their daily dose of four hundred strikes each.

The heavenly wooden boards assigned to them were thicker than the others, darker, humming with greater power. These were boards tuned specifically to their cultivation levels, designed to penetrate spiritual defenses and deliver pain directly to the soul.

Crack. Crack.

Two boards flanked Lin Qiaoxin's upturned bottom, swinging alternately from left and right. The first struck her left cheek, the second immediately followed on her right. Her flesh bounced and quivered with each impact, already showing deep purple bruises beneath the red surface.

"Ahh," she gasped, but there was a strange pleasure mixed with her cry. "Yes, this is wonderful. The boards Master controls feel so much better than the regular ones. My bottom is being destroyed, completely destroyed."

Her voice carried a note of genuine satisfaction, though tears dripped from her chin onto the stone below. Her twin ponytails bounced with each strike, and her youthful face was twisted in an expression that blended agony and bliss.

Beside her, Li Que received the same treatment. Her high ponytail of fiery red hair swayed with each impact, her athletic body tense and straining. Her buttocks, firm and well-muscled from years of combat training, resisted the boards far more than soft flesh would have, but the heavenly wood paid no heed to physical conditioning. It struck with the force of divine judgment.

"Master's punishment is a slave's glory," Li Que declared through gritted teeth. Her voice was steady, though her eyes were wet and her pride long since broken. "Please, Master, strike harder. Your slave's bottom deserves no mercy."

Crack. Crack.

The boards broke their rhythm for a moment, delivering two rapid strikes to the same cheek before resuming the alternating pattern. Li Que's body jerked, but she held her position, refusing to let her posture degrade.

Shen Mengyue knelt with perfect grace, even in this most degrading of positions. Her long black hair pooled on the ground around her head, and her beautiful face, serene despite the tears that streaked her cheeks, showed absolute acceptance. The boards struck her with the same ferocity as they struck the others, but she received the blows with a calm that came only from complete surrender.

"My bottom deserves Master's punishment," she said softly, her voice carrying clearly despite the rain of strikes. "Please, Master, do not hold back. Your slave's body exists to receive your discipline."

The boards continued their work, methodical and relentless. Each strike built upon the last, layering pain upon pain until the entire lower body became a single burning mass of suffering. Yet through it all, the three women did not break.

Lin Qiaoxin's playful nature emerged even in the midst of punishment. Between gasps and sobs, she found moments to joke. "At this rate, I won't be able to sit for a month. Good thing I spend most of my time kneeling anyway."

Li Que maintained her stoic bearing, though her voice cracked occasionally. "I was so arrogant before I met Master. I thought I was invincible. Now I know the truth. I am nothing but a slave, and my only purpose is to serve and to be punished."

Shen Mengyue spoke the least, but her silence spoke volumes. Each strike she received was an affirmation of her place in the world. She had once been the proud leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect. Now she was simply Moon Slave, the most devoted of her Master's possessions.

The count climbed steadily. One hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred. Their buttocks transformed from human flesh into something unrecognizable, a landscape of purple and black bruising, swollen and hot to the touch. Blood began to seep from the worst areas, dripping slowly down the backs of their thighs.

Yet they did not beg for mercy. They did not plead for the punishment to stop. Each woman understood that the pain was a gift, a purification, a way to demonstrate their absolute submission.

At three hundred and fifty, Lin Qiaoxin's voice grew weak. "Master... your slave's bottom... is completely ruined..."

At three hundred and eighty, Li Que's composure finally cracked. A sob escaped her lips. "Please... please continue, Master. Your slave... deserves this..."

At four hundred, the boards stopped.

For a long moment, the three women remained frozen in position, their bodies trembling with aftershocks of pain. Then, slowly, they collapsed forward, their foreheads resting on the stone, their ruined bottoms still raised slightly as if even in defeat they could not fully abandon the position.

Their backs heaved with ragged breaths. Tears continued to flow, creating small puddles on the stone beneath their faces. But on each woman's face, through the pain and exhaustion, there was a smile. Not a smile of happiness, but a smile of fulfillment. They had served their purpose. They had received their Master's discipline. They were good slaves.

The healing formations embedded in the plaza began to glow, sending tendrils of soothing spiritual energy into their battered flesh. The pain lessened, the bruising began to fade, and the swelling slowly subsided. It would take time for full recovery, but the worst was over.

Footsteps approached, measured and unhurried. The three women knew those footsteps. They knew the weight behind them, the absolute authority they represented.

They forced themselves upright, ignoring the protests of their battered bodies. They turned and knelt facing their Master, foreheads touching the ground, arms extended forward in the position of complete submission.

"Thank you, Master, for punishing your slave," they said in unison, their voices hoarse but clear. "Your heavenly boards discipline our bodies perfectly. No other punishment compares to the pain you deliver."

Xuan Fa stood before them, his black training clothes immaculate, his face betraying no emotion. He looked down at the three women who had once been among the most powerful cultivators in the world, now kneeling before him with gratitude for the beating he had just given them.

He nodded once, acknowledging their submission.

Before he could speak, three younger figures approached. They moved with the same grace as their mothers, the same acceptance of their place in the world. Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian knelt in a row beside the older women, their naked bodies marked only by the black slave collars around their necks.

"Master," they said together, "please allow our mothers to punish us today. We have prepared ourselves to receive discipline."

Lin Yuxin's voice carried a hint of her mother's playfulness. "Mother, please don't hold back. My bottom has grown very skilled at taking punishment now."

Li Yunling's tone was serious, matching her mother's pride. "I have been practicing my posture every day. I will not disgrace you by failing to receive the blows properly."

Shen Xingmian's voice was soft and sweet, just like her mother's. "Please, Mother, teach me through pain. I want to be as good a slave as you are."

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue rose on unsteady legs. Their own punishments had left them weak and sore, but they would not refuse their Master's command. They took the wooden practice boards from the attendants who brought them, solid slabs of common wood that would leave marks but not cause permanent damage.

Lin Qiaoxin positioned herself behind her daughter. Lin Yuxin knelt and raised her bottom high, presenting herself with the same perfect form her mother had shown. "I'm ready, Mother," she said, and there was genuine anticipation in her voice.

Crack.

The first strike landed, and Lin Yuxin's body jerked. Her youthful bottom was still unmarked from this session, and the wood left an immediate red welt across both cheeks.

"You must remember your place," Lin Qiaoxin said, raising the board again. "You are a slave. Your body belongs to your Master. Your will belongs to your Master. Everything you are exists only to serve."

Crack.

"Yes, Mother," Lin Yuxin gasped. "I remember. I am nothing. Master is everything."

Crack. Crack.

Lin Qiaoxin's arm moved with practiced efficiency, delivering strike after strike. Each blow was accompanied by words of instruction, reminders of the lessons she had learned through her own years of discipline.

"You must never question your Master's commands. You must never hesitate to obey. You must welcome punishment as a gift, because it proves that Master still cares enough to correct you."

"Yes, Mother. I welcome it. I welcome everything Master gives me."

Li Que and Li Yunling performed a similar ritual nearby. The older woman's strokes were harder, more severe, reflecting the pride she had once held and the absolute destruction of that pride.

"When I first knelt before Master, I thought I would eventually break free. I thought my strength would save me. I was wrong. There is no freedom except in submission. There is no strength except in obedience."

Crack. Crack.

"I understand, Mother," Li Yunling said through gritted teeth. Her bottom was already turning deep red, the marks of the board spreading across her flesh. "I will not repeat your mistakes. I surrender completely."

Shen Mengyue punished her daughter with a gentleness that seemed out of place given the circumstances. Her strokes were precise and measured, delivering pain without unnecessary cruelty.

"A good slave accepts punishment without resentment," she said softly. "A good slave understands that discipline is love. Your Master hurts you because he cares enough to correct your flaws. Be grateful for every strike."

Crack.

"I am grateful, Mother," Shen Xingmian whispered. "I am so grateful."

The punishment continued until each daughter had received exactly two hundred strikes. By the end, all three younger women were weeping openly, their bottoms covered in a network of red welds and bruises. But they knelt proudly, accepting their discipline, grateful for their mother's attention.

L

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The heavy bronze doors of the Zefeng Sect’s main hall groaned shut, sealing the cavernous chamber in an oppressive silence. Shen Mengyue walked forward with measured steps, a length of spirit-locking chain trailing from her delicate hand. The other end of the chain was fastened to a collar of plain iron, which was locked around the throat of Bai Zhenshuang.

The former Sword Immortal of the Heavenly Sword Sect crawled on her hands and knees. Her robes were gone. Her proud bearing was gone. Only her pale, naked skin remained, slick with a thin sheen of cold sweat as she was forced to move across the stone floor. Her eyes, once sharp as her blade *Frost Coagulation*, were downcast, fixed on the cracks between the stones.

Shen Mengyue stopped before the high throne at the far end of the hall. She knelt, bowing her head until her forehead touched the ground. “Master. Yue Slave has brought the prisoner.”

Bai Zhenshuang remained on her hands and knees, her breath shallow. She did not look up. She could feel his gaze on her, cold and heavy, a physical weight that pressed down on her spirit.

Xuanfa sat upon his throne, dressed in simple black training clothes. His face was a mask of cold indifference, his eyes devoid of any warmth. He looked at the broken sword immortal before him and asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade of ice. “Bai Zhenshuang. I told you to come to Zefeng Sect willingly to receive your punishment for attacking my disciple. Why did you resist? Why did you force me to send my Yue Slave to break your bones and drag you here like a common animal?”

Bai Zhenshuang’s lips trembled. The humiliation was absolute. She had been the pride of the Heavenly Sword Sect, a genius who had never known defeat. She had looked down upon the Zefeng Sect and its master as a gathering of heretics and perverts. She had paid for that arrogance with her freedom. Now, at the mercy of the man she had scorned, she had no more pride to cling to.

“I…” she whispered, her voice cracking. She swallowed, forcing herself to speak louder. “I was arrogant. I trusted in my cultivation. I believed no one could best me. After I lost to your Yue Slave, I realized I was a frog at the bottom of a well, looking up at a sky I could not comprehend. My current state… my suffering… it is entirely my own doing. I have no one to blame but myself.”

Xuanfa nodded slowly. “At least you understand that much.” He leaned forward slightly. “Tell me, Sword Immortal. What is the most important thing to a swordsman?”

Bai Zhenshuang answered without hesitation. “The sword. It is the foundation of my Dao. It is my life.”

A cold, mocking smile touched the corner of Xuanfa’s lips. “The sword. I see.” He let the silence hang for a moment, the weight of his next words crushing her before he even spoke. “Then tell me… how does it feel to be spanked every single day by your own scabbard?”

Bai Zhenshuang’s face went white, then crimson. Her hands clenched into fists on the stone floor. The scabbard. Her own scabbard, the vessel she had crafted to house her beloved sword, the symbol of her identity. For the past week, that scabbard had been the instrument of her daily humiliation. Every evening, she was forced to bend over, and the scabbard itself, animated by a cruel spirit, would swing down again and again, smacking her bare buttocks until she wept.

It was the deepest insult. It was as if her own soul was rejecting her, striking her down for her failure. Every blow from the scabbard was a blow to her pride as a sword immortal. She could not answer. She could only stare at the floor, her face burning with shame she had never known she was capable of feeling.

Xuanfa continued, his voice flat and merciless. “I brought you here today to punish you personally. I want you to taste the pain of the Heavenly Dao Boards driven by my own spiritual power. I want you to understand the burden that your companion, Yue Slave, carries for me every single day.”

He raised a hand. The air in front of him shimmered, and two slabs of jet-black wood materialized out of nothingness. They were thick, smooth, and hummed with a terrifying spiritual energy that made Bai Zhenshuang’s instincts scream in alarm.

“Bend over,” Xuanfa ordered.

Bai Zhenshuang’s body obeyed before her mind could protest. The conditioning of the past week had broken that resistance. She lowered herself until her chest touched the floor, her hips raised high, her buttocks exposed and vulnerable to the cold air of the hall.

Shen Mengyue remained kneeling beside her, her face calm, her eyes watching Bai Zhenshuang with a quiet sympathy.

The first board fell.

The sound was a thunderclap in the hall. The wood struck Bai Zhenshuang’s right buttock with the force of a falling mountain. Pain exploded in her flesh, a blinding, white-hot agony that erased all thought. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her mind went blank, her vision swimming with stars.

Before she could recover, the second board fell on her left buttock.

This time, she screamed. A raw, animal cry of pure suffering. The tears came unbidden, streaming down her face as she sobbed. She turned her head, looking at Shen Mengyue, who knelt there with a placid expression. *How?* Bai Zhenshuang thought wildly. *How does she endure this day after day?*

Xuanfa did not stop. The boards struck in a relentless rhythm, one after another, each blow landing with surgical precision on the same swollen tissue. The skin split. Blood welled up and dripped down her thighs. Her screams turned to hoarse pleas, then to wordless sobs, then to whimpers.

Four hundred strikes.

When it was over, Bai Zhenshuang lay collapsed on the floor, her lower body a single, pulsing mass of agony. She could not move. She could barely breathe. The tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving salty tracks.

Xuanfa looked down at her without a trace of pity. “Mengyue,” he said calmly. “Do you remember the first time I punished you?”

Shen Mengyue raised her head, her voice steady and respectful. “Yes, Master. I remember it well.”

“Recite it for her,” Xuanfa ordered.

Shen Mengyue turned her gaze to the broken Bai Zhenshuang. “A disciple of my Immortal Mist Sect committed an offense against Master. As her sect leader, I took full responsibility and accepted the punishment upon myself. However, that disciple, in a misguided attempt to save me, attacked Master. For that transgression, Master punished me in a specific manner. He had my legs spread wide, exposing the crease between my buttocks and the entrance to my anus. He then applied a medicinal ointment that caused an unbearable itching sensation in that very spot. I begged him to whip it to relieve the insanity. He granted my wish, lashing that sensitive fold fifty times with a thin, biting whip. After the whipping, he took a polished iron tool, curved like a hook, and inserted it into my ravaged anus. I was then hoisted up by a chain attached to the hook, and I hung from the rafters of my own sect’s main hall for the entire night. By morning, I was a different woman.”

Bai Zhenshuang stared at Shen Mengyue, a new kind of terror dawning in her eyes. The story was a mirror of what she had just endured, and a prophecy of what was to come.

Xuanfa stood up, walking down the steps of his throne. “She has learned her lesson well. Now, Bai Zhenshuang, you will learn the same lesson.”

He snapped his fingers. A small vial of murky green liquid floated out of his storage ring. He knelt behind Bai Zhenshuang, who was too broken to resist. He roughly spread her swollen buttocks, ignoring her whimper of pain, and poured the thick, oily juice of the Scorpion Grass directly onto the delicate, creased skin of her perineum and the tight ring of her anus.

The effect was instantaneous.

A fire erupted in that sensitive spot. It was not pain. It was an itching sensation so intense, so maddening, that Bai Zhenshuang felt her sanity begin to crumble. She shrieked, bucking her hips, trying to rub the spot against the floor to relieve the burning need. But the floor only made it worse.

“Please!” she screamed, her voice ragged. “Master! I beg you! Hit it! Lash it! Anything! Please, make it stop!”

Xuanfa looked down at her with cold satisfaction. “So polite now,” he murmured. He raised his hand, and a thin, barbed whip materialized in the air. It cracked down, landing perfectly in the crease of her buttocks, striking the inflamed skin of her crack.

The relief was so immediate, so profound, that Bai Zhenshuang moaned in gratitude. The whip struck again, and again, each blow lancing through the maddening itch with a sharp, clarifying pain. She counted each hit, clinging to the agony as a lifeline.

Fifty strikes.

When it was over, the itch was gone, replaced by a deep, burning throb that radiated from her anus to the very core of her being. She was trembling, sobbing, completely spent.

But Xuanfa was not finished.

He produced the anal hook. It was a thick, polished curve of black iron, gleaming with a sinister light. Bai Zhenshuang saw it and tried to crawl away, but her legs would not obey her. Shen Mengyue held her down with a firm hand.

“You took the whip so eagerly,” Xuanfa said, his voice a mockery of gentleness. “Now take the reward.”

He pressed the cold tip of the hook against her tortured anus. The ring of muscle was swollen and sensitive from the whipping, and it resisted with a painful clench. Bai Zhenshuang screamed, an incoherent sound of denial and terror.

Xuanfa did not stop. He pushed, applying steady, unrelenting pressure. The wide head of the hook forced its way past her sphincter, a sensation of invasive violation that shattered what remained of her composure. She felt the cold metal curve inside her, sliding deep until the flared base rested against the entrance. The pain was nauseating, a deep, cramping ache that made her vision blur.

A chain was attached to the base of the hook. With a flick of Xuanfa’s wrist, she was hoisted into the air.

She hung upside down, her full body weight supported entirely by the hook lodged inside her. The blood rushed to her head. Her arms dangled uselessly. Her torn and swollen buttocks were displayed to the empty hall like a trophy. The metal inside her moved with every tiny motion, a constant, horrible reminder of her captivity.

For a day and a night, she hung there.

She hung there as the sun crossed the sky outside. She hung there as the cold of night seeped into the hall. The cramping in her abdomen became a constant fire. The pressure of the hook against her internal walls was a torture without rest. She could not sleep. She could not find a comfortable position. She simply existed, suspended in agony, her body slowly breaking down under the strain.

When Xuanfa finally returned, she was a ghost of her former self. Her eyes were unfocused. Her lips were cracked and dry. She had soiled herself in the endless hours, and the shame of it was a new mountain of pain on top of the mountain she already carried.

She was lowered to the ground. The moment the hook was removed, she collapsed, curling into a fetal position, sobbing dryly.

Xuanfa crouched beside her. He looked at the gaping, abused opening of her anus, which was now visibly distended and unable to close. He let out a cold laugh. “It’s quite open now. Do you want me to stuff your scabbard in there to keep it stretched? It would be a fitting use for it, don’t you think? A sword immortal carrying her own scabbard in the only hole she has left.”

The words hit Bai Zhenshuang like a physical blow.

Her scabbard. In her anus. Her pride, her symbol, her very identity as a sword cultivator, defiled in the most degrading way imaginable. The mental image seared itself into her brain, and something inside her snapped.

The last shreds of her dignity crumbled to dust.

She scrambled to her knees, then fell forward, her forehead striking the stone floor in a frantic kowtow.

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